Soon You'll Be Leaving Your Man
by in finitas
Summary: another Bright Eyes based fiction. future. one shot. Jess-centered.


I watch you sometime. Like the way a hawk would watch its prey. Except I'm not as careful and I sometimes allow you to leave without a trace. But I always find you again. And I found you one day in the backyard of your neighbor's house, arguing with that tall boy that seems to have an Oedipus Complex of some sort. The fact that he's another lanky giant makes me wonder what goes on in Rory's head.  
  
I hear him say, "I'm sick of this" to you and you just laugh. Like it was some kind of joke, even though I know it's not to him. And he yells again, this time with the words "I hate it when you laugh at things that aren't funny, Rory!"  
  
"Don't get so worked up." You say. You always say that recently. I guess soon you will be leaving your man. Because Treebeard just doesn't seem to cut it for you anymore, and I know that.  
  
And then you part with him and wander around until you see me. It may seem arrogant, but I know you see me and I know your destination. You leave a wake of tongues waving after you as you make your way to me, in the back of your porch. It's no coincidence where you stand - in front of me. There's nothing else around me, just a case of beer and I know you don't drink.  
  
You park your pretty face in front of me and smile all innocent and sweet like. "What was so funny?" I ask. You smile again and say, "I don't know. I didn't feel much like laughing anyway."  
  
"That could change." I reply. "What's his name?" I nod toward Oedipus, ignoring his glare. He doesn't know who I am, I can tell. But he doesn't like me nonetheless. Which is good, because I don't plan for him to like me. If he did, that would make your parting harder. Because I guess soon you'll be leaving your man.  
  
"Derek," you tell me after a pause. I grin and nod again, to a beat all my own.  
  
I look at him straight and smirk even wider. "He doesn't like me," I say.  
  
"He doesn't know you." He starts walking toward us.  
  
"He doesn't like me," I repeat. He places a possessive hand on your shoulder, which makes my eyebrow rise. I wouldn't be surprised he was Dean's long lost twin.  
  
"Who are you?" he asks. His voice is shockingly deep for such a skinny kid.  
  
You look up at him and interrupt my quip with "don't be mean. I was just being nice. He's an old friend." You smile sweet again, but I know its denial. I'm not just an old friend and you and I both know that. And I know there's a meaning behind every action you take.  
  
You play it cool when the clock chimes and he prepares to lead you away. Underneath your eyes I see unwillingness, which he misses even though he's staring right at you. I guess only your closest friends can see it and I'd hardly forget.  
  
"Well, I'll be seeing you," you say. I nod and take a swig of the beer that I long forgot about until now. You say it so offhand that I know your sentence is not finished.  
  
"Soon," I finish for you. You nod and leave the porch without taking a beer. I know soon you will be leaving your man. Your Yale man with stacks of hundreds just lying around. Your college boy that wears sweater vests and takes you out to Italian. Does he know real Italian, like a Mariano does? But I guess it doesn't matter anymore because I know you'll be leaving him soon.  
  
Weeks go by and I'm about to leave again. Back to New York again because that's where I belong. I mechanically work on the toaster as a good-bye gift for Luke. I look up when you enter and you boldly stare at me as you take a seat. You never were subtle, a lesson Lorelai seemed to conveniently overlook.  
  
I know you left your man. You would never be so audacious otherwise. I place the toaster on the counter and nod toward you. A silent good-bye that you never caught. I pick up my suitcase and walk out, avoiding your gaze. If I look at you I can't leave again. I almost didn't last time, but I can't stop this time.  
  
Your dreams of saving me - as if I'm some kind of plane you can land - hold enough idealism to fill us both. You never saved me before and you probably won't ever. We don't belong together, but only I can see that.  
  
I catch sight of Derek as I walk toward my car. I make up my mind and make my way toward him. He looks up as I approach.  
  
"She believes she loves me," I say, no need for explanation. "But she doesn't. It's just a silly infatuation. Remember to tell her that next time you take her out to Italian wearing a sweater vest." I turn and leave him hanging there. I stuff my bag into my car and take flight again. I know you're watching me from the diner window, but I no longer care.  
  
At least, that is what I tell myself. 


End file.
